


that's what friends are for

by TheQueenInTheNorth



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Inhuman!Trip, M/M, Recovery, Trauma, Trip Lives, robbie returns from hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23190742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueenInTheNorth/pseuds/TheQueenInTheNorth
Summary: Robbie has a hard time readjusting to life after hell. Luckily, he has Trip there as a friend and support - and maybe something else, too.
Relationships: Robbie Reyes/Antoine Triplett
Comments: 11
Kudos: 12





	that's what friends are for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soulofevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofevil/gifts).



Robbie wakes up slowly, padding footsteps nearby not sending him into the panic they ought to. He’s too exhausted to realise it right away. The Rider usually takes over so fast he barely has time to feel the panic, anyway.

It’s not until something brushes against his shoulder that he shoots up, panting, heart racing, and takes a swing.

The figure above him sidesteps easily.

Robbie jumps to his feet, the blanket slipping off him in the process giving him pause just long enough to register two things: the Rider has yet to react, and the figure is holding up their hands in appeasement.

“Hey, man, my bad,”Trip says.“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He says it like Robbie’s reaction to being startled awake was perfectly reasonable. His voice is kind, the way it always is, and Robbie blinks through the wave of panic and the half-dark of the room until he’s in the common area of base again, and no longer in hell.

Trip looks likes he’s about to say something else. Robbie doesn’t want his pity, couldn’t bear pity right now, and so he beats him to speaking,“Why’d you put a blanket on me?”

“It’s a little chilly. Didn’t want you getting cold.” He shrugs at Robbie’s bewildered look.“It’s what friends do, isn’t it? Look out for each other.”

Robbie’s not one for friends, not even before hell, not even before the Rider took hold of his life. He finds himself nodding anyway.

Trip has that effect somehow.

* * *

There’s a knock on the door and Robbie doesn’t move.

The knocking doesn’t stop. His knuckles rap the same rhythm against the floor, like it might go away if he overshadows it.

It’s a trick it’s a trick it’s a trick, tocktocktock against the door, tocktocktock against the floor.

He thought he’d found the way out before. It’s always worse right after finding out it isn’t true. Every escape that was only a renewed torture makes him believe in actual escape from hell even less.

“Robbie, c’mon,”Trip says.

It’s usually Gabe’s voice that tricks him. He can’t resist from going to Gabe. The things that enjoy having him as their toy have learned quickly. Gabe’s voice will make him come running.

Trip’s voice makes him perk up but he stays where he is, huddled in the corner of the room that gives him the best course of attack.

“I’m putting a plate in front of the door,”Trip says. He sounds sad. They make Gabe sound sad, too, sometimes, but mostly frightened.“You’ve got to eat, alright?”

“I’m fine,”Robbie snaps. Or means to snap. It comes out barely a rasp.

“Right, I’m getting you some tea, too. And you better have that plate inside by the time I’m back, you stubborn idiot.”

Huh. That angle is new.

Robbie scoots over to the door, listens for Trip - or the thing pretending to be Trip - listens for a warning from the Rider.

He opens the door just far and long enough to pull the plate in, shoveling down food so fast his stomach cramps and he burns his tongue. If it’s a trick, it’s a good one. He can taste the freshness of the vegetables.

When Trip returns, Robbie opens the door. Just a little.

“Your recipe?”he asks.

“Grandma’s,”Trip says.

“It’s good,”Robbie says.

Trip smiles and that cannot be a trick. Nothing, no power on this earth or below it, could imitate that warmth in his eyes.“I’d give you the recipe but I was sworn to secrecy. Not even friends can know, it’s strictly kept in the family.”

There it is again.

Friends.

“Thanks anyway,”Robbie says, and accepts the tea before closing the door abruptly.

He sits with his back against the door. Trip says,“Anytime,”and then he leaves.

Robbie holds the cup close to his chest and pretends the warmth of it is the warmth of Trip’s hands.

It’s a gentle warmth, a comforting one.

Nothing like hellfire. Much weaker, yet so much more powerful.

* * *

Robbie runs his fingers along the edge of the table, again and again and again, until he catches one of the new agents staring, one of those who doesn’t know that he needs the reminder that his surroundings are actually there, actually real.

He drops his hands into his lap and tries to focus on Mack detailing - something. He digs his fingernails into his palms. It’s a dull sort of ache. If he was being lulled into a false sense of security, it wouldn’t hurt at all, would it?

He clenches his fists. It hurts a little more. Mack’s words remain a blur.

And then there’s a hand on his forearm and he manages not to flinch; Trip strokes down his arm, up again, down, up, down, the same rhythm he drew on the table.

It’s hidden from sight. Trip’s not even looking at him. Robbie’s hands relax. The crescent shapes left in his skin are almost entirely faded by the time the meeting is over. His arm is tingling pleasantly.

He can’t get his thanks out because he’s too afraid the ‘Keep going’ might slip off his tongue instead.

Trip undoes his pendant and offers it to Robbie.

Robbie stares at it, stares at Trip, opens his mouth and can’t find words. He’s barely known Trip without the thing. The first run-in he had with SHIELD was right after they’d thought Trip was dead, when he’d freshly found out he was Inhuman and had not yet figured out his powers, every cell shifting between states, not the same matter long enough to reform his body, but conscious and there and terrified.

Robbie had sensed him. Or the Rider had, really. When Trip had thanked him, his voice even then warm, no matter how much it had trembled, he’d been holding the pendant between fiddling fingers. Something to focus on, to ground him.

He’d still had it when Robbie had come on as an occasional consultant.

He’d still had it when he’d official joined the team.

He touches it less and less these days but still…

“I can’t accept that,”Robbie says.

“Of course you can,”Trip replies and presses it into Robbie’s palm, gently closing his fingers around it. Gentle yet assertive.“You’re my friend. I want to help you.”

The implication he needs help in the first place ought to make him bristle, Robbie thinks idly, as he allows the smile to find its way onto his face.

* * *

“I’ve got this round,”Robbie says as Trip reaches for his wallet.

Trip takes the beer and nods his thanks.

His smile is as easy going as ever. Robbie doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of looking at it.

He licks his lips, tries to find the right words.“Friends get friends drinks, yeah?”

Trip chuckles.“Yeah.”

“Cool,”Robbie says.

They nurse their drinks in silence for a while before Robbie asks,“Do friends take friends out for dinner?”

“Sometimes,”Trip says.“Do you wanna go to dinner, Reyes?”

His eyes are sparking with mirth. There’s anticipation there, too.

“Yeah.” Robbie sets his drink down and leans closer.“Not as friends, though.” He leans a little closer still, gaze dipping to Trip’s lips.“If that’s cool?”

“That’s cool,”Trip says, and closes the last few inches of distance between them.

* * *

“So this was your goal all along,”Trip teases a few years down the road, when Robbie carefully follows all the steps laid out for him and laughs as Grandma Sophie says,“And here’s where Antoine always gets the measurements wrong.”

“You got me,”Robbie says and kisses his husband.“I was after the family recipe.”

“Less kissing, more chopping,”Sophie reprimands.

Trip laughs and leaves them to it, going to set the table for their meal.

Robbie watches him go; he brushes a finger against the pendant hanging around his neck. It’s long stopped being a reminder that this world is real, even if some days, it still feels too good to be true.

In the best possible way.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Roaring 20s Rarepair exchange. Thanks for reading!


End file.
